Don't Stand so Close to Me ,
by MysteriWriter07
Summary: Hermione's true inner feelings all through the HP series, and a secret love and allegiance? with Severus Snape.  R&R! My first fanfic, stick with me here. It's only one chapter so I'm thinking of picking it up again, but constructive criticism please!


The Whomping Willow lurches forward with a resounding BOOM that indicates, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it is not the wind.

Even underground, having just slid through the tunnel that deposited them in that secret room under the Willow, they nearly fall over with the impact.

"Make this quick, none of us have much time, there's nearly thirty minutes left." Came Snape's voice, darkly. Ron whimpers anxiously, and he too looks at Hermione to continue.

"I… there is something I need to tell you, and to ask you, and… if we are to defeat the Dark Lord, I…" Hermione tries to gather her thoughts but was too distracted- where is Harry? What has happened to Ginny, and Remus, and Luna and Neville, where are they and who is dueling Death Eaters with magic beyond their capab…

She composes herself and is about to continue when the Whomping Willow lurchs again, a sickening jolt, and this time they all fall straight to the ground. The two wizards and the witch scramble up, wands ready, when they hear another voice through the tunnel.

It was the voice of Remus Lupin, and Hermione thought how strange it was that he

looked happy, happy to see them, _happy_, given the present circumstances.

* * *

Readers, highly intelligent as they are, should not be given a plot, a story to follow, without knowing the exposition. It's a basic rule of writing to let your readers in on what is happening and why, or else they will become totally lost regardless of the author's superb prose or characterization. So exposition come in very handy at times like these, because even readers as smart and avid as Hermione like to know what the hell is going on.

If you're reading this exceptional back-story to the Harry Potter novels, it is my greatest hope that you have first devoured the original novels themselves. Firstly because they are amazing works of literature, and secondly because Jo Rowling clearly needs more fans, or else she'll soon put the starving in starving artist.

No, really you need to have read them because that above scene takes place towards the end of the Deathly Hollows, and all I'm telling you here is the Hermione/ Snape back-story. The remaining context and characters, everything else going on in the wizarding world, can be found in those 7 novels, and I wouldn't have time to catch you up here even if I wanted too.

So continue on, dear reader, and soon you will know what was really happening in the dark crevices of Hermione's and Snape's minds, when they weren't reading books and saving the world, respectively. Happy reading.

Where to start? How about the first Potions class.

* * *

There was a plain, eleven year old girl sitting at a plain, wooden desk in a potions class in her first year of Hogwarts. As soon as she entered the classroom she had made a bee-line for the front row, her usual spot, but upon finding Harry Potter sitting there, she hesitated. He was one of those silly boys who seemed to care more about having fun and cracking jokes than about learning, or reading a good book. However, as it was the only seat left and class was about to begin, she sat down and took out her books. She looked around the room; it was darker than most and a bit drafty, too- it was in the dungeons, after all. There were about twenty first-years in the class, and only a few she recognized; Harry, of course, who was laughing along with that boy, Ronald, a few rows back, and the awful Draco Malfoy. There was no sign of Neville, the only boy who she could really yet call a friend.

She was very excited to begin Potions, she just hoped that it would prove more challenging than her last three classes; she had yet to learn something she did not know, except perhaps that incantation in Charms. She couldn't, for the moment, recall who taught Potions, but she hoped he was planning to arrive on time; she had read most of the textbook and if he was going to be late there would be that much less time to impress upon him just how serious she was about this class.

Just then, the door at the back of the room swung open and a tall man in long, swinging black robes and blacker hair strode in, talking in a low, monotonous voice. He had the air of disliking… everything. Of disliking… everyone, and… oh, what was the word for it? Hermione decided she must find a word later to describe this strange man. In the meantime, she listened.


End file.
